


Lost and Found

by fangedangel (clockworkqueen)



Series: T'Chucky Trash [5]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, First Kiss, Inappropriate Use of Tattoo Chairs, Kittens, Lost Cats, M/M, Romance, Scars, T'chucky - Freeform, Tattoo AU, Tattoo Artist Bucky Barnes, Tattoos, alternative universe - no powers, meet cute, wpweekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7513459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkqueen/pseuds/fangedangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T'Challa loses his cat, Bucky finds it. Kissing ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I've hosted T'Chucky Weekend over on Tumblr for the past couple of days, and its been a ball! Be sure to check out the rest of the works on the T'Chucky Weekend tag here on AO3, and find all of the fanart, music, writing and more in the 'wpweekend' tag on Tumblr. 
> 
> Enjoy! xx

Bucky pushes open the fire escape and breathes a sigh of relief as a breeze hits his face. It’s his day off from the shop and he’s spent it working on tattoo designs for the customers he’s got queued up. 

He can remember joking that his freaky metal arm attracted people to the shop. That people were just curious, wondering how something so violent could do such delicate work. But after being beaten over the head enough by Steve and Nat, Bucky is a little more confident in himself. 

Natasha’s his piercist, the best in the city by far. Bucky’s got her work decorating his left ear, he can justify that claim. 

Steve’s his best friend, a better artist than Bucky by far. After Afghanistan he used every bit of his savings to open a shop, somehow he’d roped Stevie in too. 

It worked out for the best though, Wintershield is one of the best shops in the city. 

And Bucky’s working on his off day. 

He’s thankful though. A few years ago he had nothing to look forward to but more war. His tattoo skills, his art - that was all forgotten. Put on the backburner. It wasn’t until Bucky lost his arm did he start to miss it. Ache for a pencil and a sketch book.  

Luckily for him, Stark Tech had been looking for a body to try their new hardware on. The freaky metal arm? It gave him his life back.

Bucky sighs, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts as he sits up against the brick of his apartment. He’s itching for a smoke, he can feel it in his veins, but all Bucky has is the stupid vape contraption Steve’s got him on. 

He always feels like a douchebag when he uses it, but that type of talk always gets Steve into his ‘better a douchebag then dead cause of lung cancer’ diatribe. Bucky supposes he’s right. 

Peach flavored or otherwise, it’s nothing like a real smoke. But it helps. Bucky leans his head back to blow out the smoke. When he opens his eyes he sees that he’s got a guest. 

“Hey there,” he whispers to the cat. 

It’s nothing more than a kitten, really. It can’t be bigger than two of his hands. The little black thing blinks owlishly at him like it knows it’s being talked about. 

“Come here, baby.” He’s never had a pet, and he’s always made fun of people who reduce to baby talk when they’re around animals and babies. But here he is, whispering to this little cat. 

The cat seems to like it well enough. It crawls toward him, prior trepidation gone. Stopping by his foot, the cat purrs up at him pitifully. 

Scooping the cat up with a gentle metal hand, Bucky reenters his apartment, in search of milk. 

“Do cats really drink milk?” he mutters as he opens his fridge. “Or is that just a myth?” 

Unsurprisingly, milk is just about the only thing in his fridge, and Bucky pours the remainder of it in a shallow bowl. The kitten hurries to it quickly, and Bucky grabs himself a Kind Bar from a cabinet so the cat doesn’t have to eat alone. 

It’s only now that Bucky notices the subtle tag hanging from the cat’s collar. There’s no name, simply a phone number. He’s vaguely disappointed, but pulls out his phone anyway. 

“I’m gonna get you home, little kitty.” 

Bucky dials the number, and after only a couple of rings a voice answers. 

“Hello?” The accented voice is like smooth butter. It’s rich like iced coffee. It’s like - Bucky needs to get laid. 

“Hey. I uh, found your cat. I’m Bucky by the way.” 

“Hi, Bucky,” the voice says, and Bucky melts. “You found Nyika. Thank you, I’ve been looking for her everywhere. I’m T’Challa.”

Bucky grins into the phone like an idiot, and even Nyika is judging him. “Hi, T’Challa,” he clears his throat. “Listen, if you want you can come by my shop tomorrow to pick her up. I’ll text you the address?” 

“That sounds great Bucky. I really appreciate it,” T’Challa says. 

“See you tomorrow.” Bucky disconnects the call and turns to Nyika, who’s watching him like she wants to know what they’re going to do next. 

“I hope T’Challa’s half as hot as his voice,” Bucky tells Nyika. “That would be - shit, that would be horrible. He’ll be way out of my league.” 

Nyika blinks at him, and Bucky decides to stop talking to a cat.

*

Eventually, Bucky goes out to grab some cat food - and some people food(remembering to eat actual food wasn’t Bucky’s strong suit). Nyika turns his nose up at the canned stuff, so Bucky slips her some of the fish from his dinner. 

He also attempts to giver her a bath to get some of the New York City dirt off of her fur, and that goes better than expected. Nyika gets very fluffy when she’s all clean, and Bucky can’t stop laughing. He snaps a picture and sends it to T’Challa along with the address to his shop. 

Once he finally goes to his room to turn in for the night, Nyika trails after him and hops into his bed, snuggling up beside him. 

“Stop,” Bucky whines, petting Nyika gently. “You’re gonna get me attached.” 

Nyika falls asleep under Bucky’s ministrations, not helping his attachment one bit.

*

“You look equal parts murderous and cuddly,” Steve comments when Bucky enters the shop the next morning, Nyika in his arms. 

“My coffee maker broke,” Bucky grumbles. “And I forgot Nyika apparently only eats freshly prepared fish so I had to cook. On no coffee.” 

“Aww, Buck.” Steve takes Nyika from Bucky’s arms and holds her up, cuddling her to his chest. “Hi there.”

“Aren’t you allergic to cats?” Bucky asks amusedly. 

Steve sneezes. “Yes. But I’m allergic to everything. This is one of my minor ones.”

“Alright,” Bucky cautions. “Don’t die on me, Stevie. Is Nat in?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “These lungs will get me through another day. And yeah, but you know she’s not talking to you.” 

“Nat are you still mad about that stupid blind date?” he yells in the direction of Natasha’s area. 

She doesn’t respond, which pretty much answers Bucky’s question. 

“Steve, he was a douchebag,” he whispers. 

“I can still hear you!” Natasha calls. 

“That’s because you’re a freak of nature, Nat.”

Nat walks out of her piercing station, arms crossed, and Bucky’s ready to square up when the helpful ding atop the front door sounds, signaling a customer. 

Bucky turns around, and comes eye to eye with one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen. He’s tall and dark and handsome and dressed impeccably. 

“Hello,” the man greets. “I’m looking for a Bucky?”

“I’m a Bucky,” Bucky mumbles, immediately recognizing the man's voice. “I mean, T’Challa?”

“Hey, Bucky.” T’Challa greets, shaking his hand and pulling Bucky into a friendly hug. Bucky squeaks, but covers it with a laugh and holds on tight. 

“How are you?” Bucky asks conversationally, taking Nyika from Steve and giving her one last hug. “I’m gonna miss your pretty kitty.”

T’Challa laughs. “I’m doing well. Thanks for the picture last night, I had a good laugh when I saw it this morning. Nyika really seems to like you.” 

“I like her too.” Bucky hands T’Challa his cat only somewhat reluctantly. Nyika purrs contentedly in T’Challa’s arms. 

“Nice shop you’ve got here,” T’Challa comments as he pets Nyika. It sounds like a line one says before saying goodbye, and Bucky panics. He wants this man’s number more than he’s wanted anything in a long time. 

“Want a tattoo?” Bucky blurts. 

Natasha and Steve immediately start snickering, and Bucky sends them a death glare. 

“No thank you,” T’Challa says. “But I wouldn't mind seeing yours.” 

Bucky blushes furiously. “Uh, I - alright.” He pulls T’Challa along gently by the shirt, far away from his idiot co workers. 

“Why were your friends laughing? Is that one of your usual lines?” T’Challa asks as they walk toward Bucky’s office.

Bucky snorts. “No. No way. They’re laughing because I haven’t met anyone in months, and when I finally do, he looks like a king.” 

“Prince, actually,” T’Challa corrects, smiling when Bucky’s mouth drops open. “But someday.”

“I’ve never made out with a prince before,” Bucky says once he picks his jaw up off the ground. “I won’t be like, defiling your nation or anything, will I?”

T’Challa smirks. “You can defile me all you want.”

“Dear lord.” Bucky says, shutting the door to his office behind them. His space is mostly empty besides the large dentist-style chair for tattooing, and a small desk in the corner. Art decorates the walls, both his and Steve’s. But that’s not what T’Challa’s focused on.

He deposits Nyika on the desk before sitting back in the large chair in the center of the room. “You can take your shirt off,” T’Challa says, a hint of a smile on his lips. 

Bucky shivers. “Just warning you, I’ve got scars. The arm - my arm can be a little odd at first.”

“Don’t we all,” T’Challa says. “Let me look at you.”

“This is not something I do,” Bucky says conversationally as he pulls off his shirt. 

“I used to do it more than I’d like to admit, in my younger years. But lately? No one’s piqued my interest. Until you,” T’Challa says. 

“We just met,” Bucky protests, though he lets T’Challa’s gaze envelope him. 

“I know,” T’Challa breathes. “Come here.” 

Bucky wouldn't dream of denying him. He climbs atop the chair, one leg on each side of T’Challa’s body, getting situated in his lap. T’Challa’s hands are on him instantly. 

He touches every part of Bucky’s torso. T’Challa pays the art that decorates his body and the fissured scar tissue equal attention. He eyes the metal arm curiously, before placing a kiss where metal meets flesh. 

Bucky can’t stand a second more of T’Challa’s teasing and gentle touches. He cups T’Challa’s face carefully in his hands, pressing a kiss to his lips. It’s intense, and hot and easily one of the best kisses of Bucky’s life. T’Challa kisses skillfully, holding Bucky’s hips possessively. They explore each others mouths, and all Bucky wants is more. 

Unfortunately, Nykia disagrees. 

Nyika purrs loudly, causing Bucky and T’Challa to break their kiss. They share a laugh, before separating reluctantly. 

“I think she’s hungry,” Bucky comments. 

T’Challa smiles. “You’re right.” He looks at his watch. “Listen, would you like to come to my place? I’ll feed Nyika, we can do lunch and maybe finish up?” 

“Hell yeah,” Bucky agrees. “But we’re just getting started.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a comment kink.


End file.
